Destiny Bound
by Deathslash
Summary: It is the 49th annual Hunger Games, and the Gamemakers are gearing up to make the prelude to the Quarter Quell a roaring success. Follow our tributes as they compete in one of the most unusual scenarios yet. Once again, everything is to play for as our heroes and villains must decide whose side they are on in one of the most gruesome Games yet...
1. Happy Birthday

**The Reaping**

**Hello to everyone reading, hope you enjoy the story! This story will become SYOT after the next chapter, so please do think of some ideas for then, when the form will be up!**

**Thank you!**

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The day was finally here.

For the last few weeks, Jack Williams had thought of little else. Now, the Reaping Day was finally upon Panem. As he hauled himself out of bed and wandered over to the window, he felt an unfamiliar sense of foreboding. Of course, he'd always known that this day would come. But for some reason, he'd never quite believed it until recently.

Today was Jack's twelfth birthday. It would be also, naturally, be the first time that Jack's name would be entered into the infamous "bowl of doom". Some birthday present that would be. Still, the boy thought brightly, the actual reaping wasn't until the afternoon; he could celebrate the morning with his parents, just like he always did.

He dressed quickly. For a family living in District Eleven, the Williams' weren't particularly badly off financially. Jack had always had decent clothes, and only rarely did he have to bother with stitched or second hand goods.

Today, he decided, he'd wear something simple. His "reaping clothes" were already laid out for him on his chair. The shirt, he recognised, was quite finely crafted, and his trousers and shoes had both been cleaned and prepared to perfection by his mother.

But he didn't want to wear them now; it would only keep reminding him of the awful event that was yet to come.

Jack bounded downstairs, expecting a warm reception. He wasn't disappointed.

"Happy birthday Jack!" his mother and father both stood up and embraced him as he walked into the living room. The breakfast table had already been laid; toast, scrambled eggs, cheese and ham…not to mention the fact that a small pile of presents had been left in the corner.

"Mom," he said sheepishly, "you didn't have to do all this…"

Jack's mother could be a stern and intimidating presence; she was almost six feet tall, though Jack had recently had a growth spurt and was fast catching up with her. She narrowed her eyes. "Jack Williams," she snapped, "You open those presents and you eat this breakfast we prepared, and don't you go feeling guilty about it." For the first time, Jack saw a certain kind of sadness in her eyes, though she quickly regained her composure. He realised that this show of celebration wasn't entirely for his benefit.

"Alright," he smiled back. If this was going to be the last day he spent with his family, then he was certainly going to enjoy it as much as he could. He sat down and began tucking in with gusto.

Any feeling of guilt quickly disappeared. The eggs, meat and cheese just tasted so unbelievably good. Usually he had to make do with stale bread.

"Tastes good, right?" Mr. Williams winked at his son. "You won't believe how many peacekeepers I had to kill to get all this stuff."

"Jameel!"

"I'm only teasing! You know," he addressed his son as Jack went for his second helping of scrambled eggs. "I hear that they eat this kind of stuff for breakfast every single day in the Capitol."

"I know," replied Jack, "They're so lucky."

"You think?" Mr. Williams was sceptical, "Don't you think it would just get _so _boring? I sometimes wonder what those bastards do for fun," his tone became more serious. "What happens when they get so goddamn sick of doing nothing all day? I suppose they just go to bed and get up in the morning and do the same. But what about when they've watched every T.V. show, bought every fucking ridiculous item of clothing, got every stupid tattoo on the go?"

"We know what they do for fun." Mrs. Williams murmured sadly, before taking a sip of tea. A tear ran down her cheek.

Mr. Williams paused for a moment. "You know," he smiled at his son, "I don't envy them _one bit._ I think their lives must be pretty sad."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, between mouthfuls of egg.

"You're a man of few words, aren't you?" his father said fondly.

"Well, I suppose one of you has to be," Mrs. Williams had regained her brusque manner. "Now," she gestured towards the stack of presents, "Let's stop all this Capitol talk and move onto something more interesting."

The three of them sat on the sofa in the living room. Jack counted five presents in total; he'd open them as slowly as he could, he decided. As usual, his parents had wrapped them in plain brown paper. Jack had heard of somewhere in town where you used to be able to get colourful, sparkly paper, but apparently they'd stopped selling it. He wasn't surprised; in District Eleven, there presumably wasn't much demand for sparkly paper.

He had a sneaking suspicion that the first present would be a book of some kind. And voila! It was. "Thank you," he said automatically before taking a good look at the cover. When he did, he was quite taken aback. He raised an eyebrow and looked quizzically at his amused parents. "But…this is a fictional book! _'Animal Farm'_…where did you get it?"

"Oh, I know a guy," his father winked again. "There are only so many books on the history of agriculture that can be endured." Mr. Williams worked as a manager on the local wheat farm; there were in the office a shelf full of books that Jack had already read. Just like sparkly paper, fictional books weren't something you saw often in District Eleven. Not ones that were authorised as appropriate by the Capitol, anyway. Not that Jack would generally be interested in such books.

"What's it about?"

"Well…" Mrs. Williams said, "I wasn't sure about giving it to you. I read it and it was quite hard to read at times. I don't mean that you won't be able to read it," she laughed as Jack opened his mouth to protest. "It's just that, well, there are some messages in it that are quite…hard to deal with for me."

Well, that had done it. Jack couldn't wait to read it now. He thought about asking his parents if they'd mind him reading his new book and then opening the rest of his presents this evening, but then the sinking feeling returned to his stomach as he remembered.

"But you're not a kid anymore," Mr. Williams said firmly, putting his hands on Jack's shoulders. "It's unfortunate, but it's something that we all have to accept. You're growing up and…" for a moment Jack's dad had to pause and look away, "…and you've grown into such a lovely young man. Your mom and I are so proud of you, and I hope you know that, Jack."

_Oh dear_, thought Jack, we could be at serious risk of the waterworks here. _Let's move on to the next present._

The remaining presents were nothing unusual; Jack received a set of coloured pencils, a box of nuts, some new pairs of socks and a model elephant, which his father had crafted for him. He was very touched by it all, and wished that the morning could just continue forever. Alas, there was work to be done.

Jack's father went out to work almost immediately after the final present had been opened. He always worked such long hours, Jack had come to realise, but he supposed it was worth it. He knew that there was no chance in hell that any of his school friends would ever have got five presents on their twelfth birthday, even if it did fall on Reaping Day.

Jack helped his mother wash up the plates and tidy everything away, and offered to help her with the rest of the household chores, but she shook her head, smiling.

"No, you go and play with your friends," she said, "I know that they'll be dying to see you. But I want you back in an hour or so; I want us to walk down to the courthouse together."

Jack didn't need telling twice. He left the house almost immediately, and ran down the road to his best friend Luka's house. Luka's house was a bit smaller that his, which Jack thought was a little sad considering that Luka was one of three brothers, whereas Jack was himself an only child. But Jack had always liked the idea of having siblings all crowded together in one space. It seemed as though it might be fun, even if you had to go a little bit hungry on occasion.

One thing was for sure, Luka and his family wouldn't have had eggs and cheese for breakfast this morning. A sudden thought occurred to Jack; he hadn't washed since eating. He hoped that Luka wouldn't be able to smell the eggs and think he was boasting about his family having more money. But then he dismissed the thought. Luka was a very energetic and outgoing guy, but he certainly wasn't the analytical type. He was the opposite of Jack in a number of ways. The family was one of the very few white families who lived towards the centre of District Eleven. Most of the rest who had come over the years had made their homes working far out into the countryside; Jack was expecting to see some of them later today. He had to admit, he was hoping it would be these kids who were selected as tributes; he didn't want it to be someone he might know.

_Stop it!_ _This is my birthday morning and they aren't taking it away from me!_

Arriving at Luka's house, he banged on the front door enthusiastically, but no sounds came from within. This was strange. He knew that Luka's older brother Kiro worked during the day (Jack's dad was actually his superior in the wheat fields) but that didn't account for why the others didn't seem to be in. He was about to knock again when he heard the gentle sound of shuffling, and the door was answered by a small, blonde woman – Luka's mother.

"Hi Mrs.- oh, are you alright?"

She was crying. Her face was a deep pink and the tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Hi," she said, "I'm sorry, Jack. I know it's your birthday and you're here to see Luka, but…well, this is a very difficult day for us all, and…I'm sorry." She bent her head into her hands, before shutting the door in Jack's face.

_Well, how rude._

Jack was flabbergasted. Luka's mom was usually so nice, so cheerful. He wondered whether it was something he'd said. Then of course he realised, just as he was turning away. Her odds of losing a son today were much greater than those of his own mother.

Luka was twelve, Kiko fifteen and the eldest brother Yaro would be seventeen now. So that was, what eleven slips of paper in the bowl? Then of course there were the tesserae…he imagined that their family were in need of a bit more money than his own.

Jack felt a rare wave of fury as he trudged back home. This whole thing was just so unbelievably, ridiculously unfair. He just didn't understand why one small group of people in the Capitol had to have so much. How did that even help their leaders obtain power? And why didn't the Capitol citizens try and do something about the way this country was run? His dad was right about what he said about them; they were probably just too stupid. It never occurred to Jack what the Capitol people saw of the Districts and to be honest, he didn't care. Tears sprang into his own eyes now. He just wanted this day to be over, as soon as possible. He couldn't wait for the Reaping now; there was no point in trying to enjoy the rest of his birthday.

Yes, the sooner the Reaping was over, the sooner he could get home and get back to enjoying his life. Well…enjoy it as much as he possibly could, under the circumstances. Thinking of the tesserae, it seemed selfish to have even worried about himself, given how remote his chances of being picked for the Games actually were. By the time he returned home, he ran straight past his surprised mother and up to his room, slamming the door behind him.

It was still only 9.08AM. Jack threw himself onto his bed and lay staring at the ceiling, letting the tears flow. His mom obviously had guessed what had happened and decided to leave him alone. She was probably right to do so; Jack wasn't a conversationalist, especially when he was sad.

Out the corner of his eye, he noticed that his presents had already been brought up for him. Once he'd got over his initial upset, he realised that, without a friend to spend the morning with, he had very little to do. He wouldn't have to get ready for ages yet; he was lucky in that his family lived within walking distance of the huge town square and courthouse. By District Eleven standards, the Williams family actually lived in quite an urban area.

So he picked up _Animal Farm, _and began to read. Thinking for a moment about the title, he could now see why his mother had been so upset about it. But it turned out that George Orwell had been an excellent writer, going by the first few pages.

Jack was engrossed for an hour and a half, until his mother came in. She smiled softly. "Time to get ready, Jack."

At 11:30, Jack and his mother arrived in the Square. The town centre of District Eleven was a bit of a pitiful sight, really. There were only a few dilapidated shops here or there, since most people grew their own food. Of course, what they did grow mainly went straight to the Capitol, but their beloved leaders at least let them keep some of it. How else would they have enough people to keep the crops growing?

Today, the area was a hive of activity, and Jack began to feel a knot tighten in his chest. All over the place, families were arriving. It was so bizarre. Some were silent; some were talking in hushed whispers. Some children began crying hysterically, even the teenagers. And then were the parents. It was still early, and there were only a few peacekeepers milling around. The time for silence had not yet arrived.

Who knows, thought Jack, maybe some of them have kids. Maybe some of them understood. Maybe some of them hated doing this, and were forced to do it under threat of death. He supposed that everyone in Panem was forced to participate in the Hunger Games, in some way.

Jack's mother had been unusually quiet on the walk down. It was her first time at the Reaping as a parent, and it was clear that she wasn't sure what to do- or rather, what she was permitted to do. Jack's father had been due to make the trip from the fields down to the square, just for a moment, to see his son off. But there was no sign of him yet.

"Where is he?" whined Mrs. Williams, looking around the square uncomfortably. Scaffolding had been erected over the past few days, creating five levels of shaky looking balconies on which the parents could stand at the far end of the square, facing the courthouse. This was itself an extremely old and rather grand building; Jack had been in there once on a school trip; apparently it was good to educate the children about order, and the history of the country. Jack would have agreed, had the history on the curriculum actually been accurate. Obviously, all books from "The Dark Days" had long been banned in every area of the country, but everyone knew that Panem had not been a haven which corrupt representatives from each District wanted to destroy, as was the official line.

Speaking of school, Jack saw a number of his classmates pass by as he and his mother waited for his father to show up. Jack didn't talk to any of them, just gave a wary smile. Several of them ignored him completely and just stormed ahead, their eyes completely blank.

"Darling…" Jack's mother whispered to him, "I think you'd better get in line with them."

"But Dad isn't here yet!" Jack turned to look at his mother and recoiled in horror as he saw a peacekeeper standing next to her. Tall, and clad in the white uniform, baton at the ready, Jack couldn't remember being this close to anyone quite so horrifying. His insides went cold. He couldn't see beyond this man's visor, but he could just imagine his eyes boring into his mother, who stood frozen in fear.

Jack had never felt hate like his. He swallowed his fear, and replied. "OK, mom. I'll see you later." He turned to glower at the peacekeeper, as though daring him to disagree. His mother bent down to kiss him.

"I love you," she croaked. One bit of emotion, and she would collapse. How could she allow a peacekeeper the pleasure of seeing that?

"I love you too. And I love Dad too. You'll tell him that if I…"

"But you won't," she said sternly, before breaking into a sudden giggle, "the chances are tiny! How silly! Now go and get your I.D. thing done, and I'll be right here watching when the time comes."

Jack waved at his mom as she hurried off to the stands. He turned away, and got in walked over to the east side of the square, where peacekeepers were herding the children into lines. It was like a cattle market. Jack already knew where he had to go. He'd seen one of the guys from his class, Chaff, get into the line on the far left out of seven. He supposed that there were seven lines according to the seven ages the tributes could be. Well, if he was wrong, he'd get put somewhere else. Chaff was laughing quite loudly and prodding the girl in front of him. Jack didn't like Chaff; Chaff used to bully him quite badly because of his quietness and love of books. It had stopped recently, but if Chaff were selected for the Games, Jack certainly wouldn't be losing any sleep.

He had not yet seen Luka or any of his family. Then again, his thoughts had been elsewhere when he'd been standing with his mom waiting for his dad to make an appearance. He was a little disappointed he hadn't had a chance to talk to his dad since breakfast time, but still. There was always tonight. Luka had probably already been to get his 'I.D. thing' done.

Come to think of it, Jack wasn't actually sure what this entailed. The queue he was standing in moved quite quickly, and he craned his neck to see who was sitting at the desks at the front. He was surprised to see that the officials seemed to be fairly ordinary-looking people. There girl a few spaces ahead of Jack was the next one to be called up. Jack saw the official jab a metal device into the tip of her finger, followed by placing her finger on a sheet of paper. He supposed they were taking fingerprints as a way of making sure everyone was here who was supposed to be here.

When it was his turn, the dull looking male sitting at the desk yanked his arm and took Jack's fingerprint before Jack even had time to draw breath. Well, that was easy enough. He then found himself ushered into another pen of sorts, where he recognised a number of the kids as being from his own class in school. But there were dozens more, who he had never seen before. The numbers were quickly filling up, and Jack felt a sense of relief; he hadn't realised just how many people actually lived in District Eleven. There was no way he'd get selected. He didn't dare move to go and speak to any of the other kids, or go and see where Luka was; there were a number of peacekeepers only a few feet away behind the rope cordoning everyone else off.

The more people who arrived, the more relaxed Jack became. How stupid he'd been! Everything was going to be fine, and he'd be back reading his new book, sitting between his parents, getting ready for dinner in just a few short hours. Perhaps he'd even go and call on Luka, who was going to be alright once the day was over.

Maybe it was a build up of repressed emotion, but Jack was beginning to feel quite giddy. He only realised he was actually humming to himself when another boy turned around in bewilderment, looking at Jack as though he were mad. Then reality hit home again, and Jack went back to being serious. After all, he might not be on his way to certain death, but somebody else certainly was.

The crowds gradually fell silent. For the first time, Jack got a good look at all the technology that had been set up at the entrance to the courthouse. He had never seen anything quite like it. What on earth was it all for? Wires, everywhere! Then there was the stage itself. Of course, the banner featuring the Capitol's emblem had been draped across the roof flowing right down to the stage, which was at least six feet high. There were a number of well dressed government agents – probably the President's best friends – sitting on either side of the wide, oak panelled double doors out of which the real star of this very sorry show was set to emerge.

The microphone was ready. The last peacekeeper descended the stage. No more whispers, no more whimpering. You could here a pin drop.

The doors opened, and here he was.

"Welcome, everyone!" With a theatrical twirl of the hands, Tymerius Till waltzed onto the stage, as though expecting everyone to be pleasantly surprised to see him. He was only in his mid-twenties, but he'd been working as District Eleven's escort for about five years. This year, he was clad entirely in purple. From the trousers all the way up to the hair – styled in very short spikes – let nobody say that Tymerius didn't make some kind of effort. From what little experience Jack had of Capitol fashion, he thought it was usually women who wore high-heeled boots, but he could be wrong. God knows what went through the minds of these people. He wondered if Tymerius was paid to look utterly stupid, or whether he genuinely liked the entire of District Eleven thinking of him as a laughing stock. Then again, Tymerius Till didn't spend each day eating stale bread and nuts, so he probably didn't care either way.

"What an honour it is to be here today! Among such wonderful people! I wish so much that I could stay and chat about what I've been up to since we last met, but…" he sighed "we have business to attend to." He went through the usual spiel of talking about the Capitol, mentioning the Rebellion, all of that.

Then the moment came.

"And now," beamed Tymerius, "The selection! Which one of you girls will be representing your district this year? There's only one way to find out!" He tottered over to the huge glass sphere on his left. In there, were the slips. Each girl in the audience had her name in there somewhere.

In theory.

Given the sheer size of District Eleven, and the fact that there were theoretically thousands of girls participating in the draw, Jack had wondered for a long time whether there was an initial random set of names picked before the Reaping, behind the scenes, and that only these names actually made it into the bowl. It didn't seem possible that all the names, including the tesserae, were already in there.

But he didn't think about that now.

Tymerius plucked out the name, and sauntered back to the microphone, smiling at the crowd. He opened the slip slowly, and Jack's heart began to race.

"Elana Hillbury!"

Silence. Jack breathed a sigh of relief; he didn't recognise the name.

He also didn't recognise the girl as she climbed the steps to greet Tymerius on the stage. The widescreen got a close-up of her face. She looked to be about sixteen. A tall, very dark-skinned girl with a long black ponytail, she looked wide-eyed and terrified, but she contained her emotions quite well. Tymerius seemed to whisper something in her ear, before giggling. She remained stone-faced; obviously she didn't find whatever he said to be quite so amusing.

"Well then Elana, time to meet your fellow tribute. You never know, he could be a total cutie," he cackled, before moving to the bowl on this right.

This was it. The knot tightened in Jack's chest. The boys around him seemed to be shuffling around nervously. This really was a horrible experience. It seemed so much different to watching it on screen. Thankfully, it would all be over soon.

And it was.

Tymerius opened the paper in the same precise way he had done just now. Fold here, fold there, smooth out…

_Just get on with it!_

"And the male tribute competing in this year's Games is…my, what an unusual name…Jack Williams! Is that right? How-old fashioned! Now, where are you? Time to meet your destiny, Jack!"


	2. Farewell, District Eleven

**Thank you to everyone reading! Hope you bear with me until the action starts. Also, there's still plenty of time to make this SYOT if there is sufficient interest!**

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Elana Hillbury was waiting patiently in the holding room for her grandmother to arrive. She'd been hoping that she could get a private room, but unfortunately they'd bundled her in with Jack Williams; he and his family were sitting quite a way across the room. His mother had arrived almost immediately, and was sobbing silently along with the boy's father. Jack himself appeared to be quite dazed and confused, and the three of them were talking in hushed voices.

Elana felt sorry for the kid. Well, she supposed she was just a kid herself, but Jack really was just a young child. She would have guessed he was older than he actually was, but she'd seen him come up to the podium from standing with all the littlest kids. Poor thing. She might have felt grateful that she didn't have a hulking brute to compete against in the Games, but she'd put all those kinds of thoughts out of her mind.

There was a peacekeeper standing guard at the door, but outside this room there appeared to be nothing but silence. Maybe there were a dozen peacekeepers out there, but they just weren't talking to one another. Maybe they were trained to be that way. Either way, Elana certainly wasn't going to make any attempt to escape; she caught a glimpse of the gun in the peacekeeper's holster. She started in shock when his hand tapped on it gently. His visor was completely opaque from her end, but she guessed he was watching her closely.

She couldn't bear listening to all of Jack Williams' parents' expressions of love, encouragement, etc., so she tried to concentrate on her surroundings. The inside of the courthouse was quite classy, she considered. Right at the moment she was sitting on a nice leather sofa, several mahogany tables separating herself from the Williamses. There was a nice blue carpet, and a strange device which seemed to serve to have an upturned water container on it. There were two taps attached; Elana guessed that this was what fancy people used to drink from. Wasn't the regular water supply good enough? She was quite thirsty, but she didn't dare ask to get a drink. Then again, she had every confidence that the appropriate people would give her a nice meal fairly soon; presumably they didn't want their precious tributes getting sick before the Games started.

Well…there was nothing else that could possibly hold her attention within the holding room; the portraits of various dignitaries certainly did nothing for her imagination. She tried listening for activity outside, but still no sounds game. It was quite surprising; surely this should be a hotbed of activity after the two tributes had been chosen? But apparently not. She was suddenly distracted by Jack's mother making some strange, anguished snorting noise.

_Come on grandma, where are you?! _

Minutes passed, and there was still no sign. She looked at the clock and let out a small incredulous laugh upon seeing that it was still only 12:35. Only twenty or so minutes ago since she'd been effectively been handed a death sentence. She was still in shock, she supposed. The crying would come later.

Jack Williams' parents left the room. Well, what actually happened was that they'd been ejected when the guard had bellowed "TIME'S UP!" The father kissed his son and retained some level of restraint, but the by then-hysterical mother had to be forcibly removed upon threat of being beaten.

"I love you, Jack!" The woman was shoved through the doorway by other guards (who apparently had been waiting outside in the event of any disturbance), and the door slammed shut behind her.

Elana turned her head at the whole spectacle. It was enough to make anyone cry, and she wouldn't allow her grandmother to see her like that. Not right away. She didn't have to wait long.

"Elana?"

She whipped round to see a stooping, elderly lady in the doorway. Her grandmother held out her arms, not at all intimidated by the guard standing behind her. She smiled, tears in her eyes, as Elana abandoned all reserve and ran to her, clasping her tightly. She completely broke down. The tears came thick and fast; all emotion poured out of her, and in spite of everything felt an enormous sense of comfort. She remembered waking up in the middle of the night as a child following nightmares. For a moment, she recognised how odd it was that the situation now prompted the exact same feelings in her, as her grandmother hushed her quietly. Elana took in the soft, musky scent of her grandmother's cardigan indulgently, like it was her latest hit of cocaine.

Or something.

"Grandma, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

"Shh…quiet, sweetheart…let's sit down."

The two of them took the sofa as far away as possible from the guard. Olivine Hillbury patted her granddaughter on the hand and waited for her to stop crying. Elana dried her eyes. She looked into her grandmother's eyes and wished that she was a talkative woman. Now that she could finally see her grandma, she suddenly realised that she had nothing to say.

"Sweetheart," Olivine said, "Listen to me," she clasped Elana's hand, "You can win this. You have to."

Not for the first time that day, Elana jumped in shock. "Grandma, I-"

"Elana, I need you. You won't die, because I need you. More than any of the others are needed. Those Williams people still have each other," she vaguely acknowledged Jack, who seemed to have assumed Elana's role of uncomfortable intruder.

Elana felt a cold chill. She hadn't thought of that, and felt a little guilty about it. If she died in the Hunger Games, her grandmother would be left with absolutely nobody. At seventy, Olivine was already well above the life expectancy of a District Eleven resident; few people would be willing to contribute to her upkeep. On the other hand, if Elana won, the two of them would go and live in virtual luxury. Then they'd be the ones everyone was coming too for handouts.

Elana's parents had both died many years earlier. Her mother had died of an infection during childbirth, while her father passed away a few years later in a farming accident. That was all Elana had been told, anyway. But she'd heard whispers at school; people knew people, and people had to have stories to bring some excitement into their lives. There were rumours that her father had been executed after attempting to flee District Eleven. She'd never mentioned the stories to her grandmother, who had subsequently been left to raise her only relative on her own. Elana dreaded to think what would have happened to her if she'd had nobody else.

Maybe her father would never have left her.

She'd always been close to her grandma, but they'd drifted apart in the last few years, slightly. Elana was sixteen, and she wanted to spend more time with her friends, which irritated Olivine. Elana felt that this was unfair; after all, she'd made these knew friends working in the rye fields to support the two of them financially. This had left Olivine less dependent on the charity of her late son's friends, something which had humiliated her greatly.

An even crueller irony of Elana's new (now old) job was that this was the first year that Elana hadn't had to take any tesserae. She'd strongly resented doing so, particularly since, for all her pride, Olivine never seemed keen to try to find any way of making money herself. Then again, Elana never actually told her that she was taking tesserae. How incredibly stupid that seemed now.

"At least the Capitol will give you a nice makeover," Olivine laughed drily, possibly to lighten the mood, "that ponytail really doesn't suit your face, darling. It makes you look common."

Elana sighed. "I suppose they will. Oh, grandma…what am I going to do?"

Olivine clapped her hands together manner-of-factly. "Well, sweetheart, you're actually quite a pretty girl, you know. When you wear this lovely dress…" she gestured to Elana's actually very plain and ill-fitting reaping gown. Elana supposed that her grandma would be happy to see the job that the Capitol's famous stylists did on her.

Elana smiled tightly, "You think I can win by being pretty?"

"I think…that you're a tough girl," Olivine beamed at her, "And very brave. Hard-working, generous. Since your parents died, you've never complained about your lot in life, unfair though it is. And..." the old lady began to cry, "I'm the one who should be sorry. I've never told you any of this before," she hesitated, "I've never told you just how much I truly love you."

"I know that, grandma!" Elana's voice began to break, "I love you t-"

"OK, that's enough!" the guard snapped, "Time to get going."

Olivine hugged her granddaughter tightly, and kissed her on the forehead. "Believe in yourself. I do." Without another word, she stood up, and dashed out the room, her hand over her mouth.

Elana watched her go. "Goodbye," she mumbled. For some reason, her own voice sounded unfamiliar to her.

Elana and Jack sat together in silence for a few moments; both trying to ignore the sound of Olivine's anguished cries as she was escorted down the hallway and out of the building. Elana glanced at Jack, wondering what she could possibly say to him. She wondered whether she should ignore him completely, given that she might have to kill him at some point in the very near future. But tactical game-playing wasn't really in her nature.

"Hey," she said, "I'm Elana."

He smiled back nervously, "I'm Jack. Nice to meet you."

"Yeah," Elana replied awkwardly, "So…this is kind of scary, isn't it?"

Jack nodded, but said nothing. He pursed his lips and looked to the floor. Elana got the message. She was glad he didn't want to talk, anyway.

She and Jack sat together for about a minute, before being escorted out of the holding room. She went willingly; the silence and inactivity had quickly become difficult to bear. About half a dozen armed guard and some of their superiors- dressed simply in expensive-looking suits – met them in the corridor. Elana supposed that these people were some kind of intermediate between the Capitol and the Districts. On her way in, Elana had been in too much of a daze to be intimidated by her surroundings, but now she paid full attention to the security detail. The fact that they hid their faces became all the more repulsive; regular employees of the District's courthouse recoiled in fright, and they weren't even the ones competing. Elana had hoped to see a smiling face; someone brave enough to reach out to her and tell her it would all be alright. But nothing came. They passed various offices and suites before descending a narrow staircase which presumably led to a back entrance to the building. So much for bringing pride to the district.

But she wasn't entirely right about that. As the group drew close to a large, steel door above which the word "EXIT" was placed in odd green letters, muffled voices came from ahead. Elana felt a glimmer of excitement as the cries became louder; there were obviously people who had crowded round by the Capitol fleet of cars to see their beloved tributes off. She didn't expect her grandmother to be among them, but still.

The door opened, and Elana felt quite taken aback by the sudden rush of fresh air and sunlight, as she was literally pulled by the arm through the exit and out before what became a suddenly silent crowd.

They were only a few dozen of them who'd shown up, but that was enough to prompt several guards to form a human barrier as well as cordoning off the area. The wind blowing around her face, Elana was stunned to find that her checks seemed wet; she must have started crying herself.

The next minute was a total blur. She desperately scanned the crowd, hoping to see someone she knew. They were all staring, at her. It would have been very disconcerting, but for some reason she felt like she should savour the moment. In a moment that came as a jolt of panic, she realised as found herself stepping into a car that this was probably the last time she'd actually set her feet on District Eleven's soil. She realised very quickly that she didn't actually mind the life she had here. She had her friends, her job, her grandmother…she wished now that she hadn't taken it all for granted. But were they really her friends, if they didn't even bother to come and see her off? It didn't matter. They'd probably all been shepherded away to their families. Elana knew that she certainly wouldn't have stayed in town any longer than she'd had to. In the past, the last she'd thought about the selected tributes on Reaping Day was when they disappeared with Tymerius through the doors.

She unconsciously held out her hand to the crowd and shrieked a little when the car door was slammed in her face, almost catching her fingers. She hadn't noticed herself being bundled in. Ignoring her seatbelt, she crawled around on the white leather to catch a final glimpse of the waiting crowd as the engine roared into life and their car started pulling away.

"Aww, don't worry," came a horribly familiar voice right next to her. She suddenly acknowledged the column of purple in her peripheral vision and the musky scent that was invading her nostrils. Tymerius Till patted her on the arm as she gawked at him, the familiar sinking feeling of despair n her chest. He smiled at her, and she suddenly noticed that Jack was sitting on his other side. He smiled at her too, rather weakly. She'd actually forgotten he was there. Tymerius sighed; apparently he was familiar with this kind of situation too. "It's going to be – sit down and put your seat belt on please – it's going to be alright. You'll see."

Elana lay back in her seat, and found the comfort of the upholstery to be quite annoying. She'd never been in a car like this before. The closest she ever got to actual transport was when she took the bus into the town whenever she needed anything important. This tended to happen rarely, as she and her grandmother usually just stocked up on goods every year after the reaping ceremony. In fact, it was usually right after the ceremony that she'd make her tesserae application for next year's Games.

As she settled down and gazed out the window, the low-rise buildings of the town became more and more sparse. Her side of the car looked over the pavement, and she thought for a moment about trying to endear herself to the passers-by with a wave and a smile, but what good would it do? These people didn't have any money, and would be no use as potential sponsors. The town itself was fairly small, so the car quickly arrived on the road through the southern plains of the district and towards the train station. At least, she presumed so – she'd never had cause to go there. The minutes went by too quickly as the car rattled on its journey; Elana was beginning to drift out of concentration to the point she was slightly enjoying getting lost in her own thoughts. With each passing field, she wished more and more that she could just feel the grass and the mud between her fingers once again and the knowledge that she'd be going home at the end of the day. The comparative luxury of the car did nothing for her, and neither did the thought of chocolate and caviar (the latter of which was probably an urban legend anyway; fish eggs for dinner? Whatever.).

"Oh my…"

For the first time since their little exchange in the holding pen, Jack Williams actually spoke up. Tymerius giggled at his reaction to whatever he'd seen out the window. The car began to slow down, and Elana craned her head to get a look out the other side, to see what all the fuss was about.

They had arrived at the station, right at the edge of the district. The station itself seemed to be quite unremarkable; just a run-of-the-mill stone building, very common in District Eleven. They pulled into the car park, where a crowd of photographers and tiny cluster of die-hard well-wishers had gathered, presumably having camped in the dust all night. Elana was surprised that they hadn't been got rid of by the peacekeepers or the station staff. There were actually only five of them; four skinny young adults and a batty old lady, all clapping so enthusiastically that Tymerius began waving at them, and admonished Elana to do the same.

But it was the train itself which had caught Jack's eye.

The car ground to a halt. Elana tried to open her door but found that it had locked automatically upon closing. She, Jack and Tymerius were all made to wait in the back while the driver, guard, and other officials travelling in separate cars all got out.

As they waited, Elana gaped at train. It was absolutely enormous; a huge bright red engine, with more than a dozen carriages stretching almost as far as Elana could see. It was so large that it made the actual station look slightly redundant. The words "District Eleven" were emblazoned in gold on the side of the first, and standing at various intervals were the staff, also decked out in crimson, their uniformed decorated with gold sashes. All saluted as the party emerged from their cars and made their way up the steps to the platform. The whole effect was simultaneously beautiful and horrific.

Finally, the car door was opened, and Elana stepped out. She realised that, actually, _this _short journey to the train would probably be her last time on District Eleven soil, and decided she didn't like that idea at all. She nodded politely as Tymerius started blathering on about a meeting that was scheduled to take place in the next hour or so, but her ears pricked up as she caught the word "mentor."

"Who is our mentor?" she asked, sharply.

Tymerius seemed surprised. "Well, I'm glad that you're finally taking some interest. You completely blanked me in the car."

"Did I?" Elana turned to face Tymerius with her best simpering face, "I'm sorry, I was just a little upset to be leaving home, that's all."

They reached the platform. Catching the eye of one of the porters, she noticed a glint and a slight smile. She felt slightly cheered up, particularly since this porter was a fairly young (and handsome) man. So, there were people rooting for her.

They stopped at the second carriage just as they were about to alight the train. Tymerius turned Jack and Elana round to face a group of reporters, some of whom were armed with cameras.

"Smile; you're on camera!"

The flash bulbs went off, and both tributes did their best forced smile. Looking further down the platform as she stepped onto the train, she noticed that a couple of those well-wishers had brushed past the guards to wave at her and Jack. For a moment she was anxious that they'd pay for their enthusiasm with a beating, but nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them. The elderly woman seemed even to be blowing her a kiss.

"My, aren't you the popular one?" Tymerius sounded quite proud, as though he'd done something remarkable himself, and started waving back. "But we really must be going! There'll be plenty more fans to meet in the Capitol, both of you!"

Elana stepped onto the plush burgundy carpet of the train, taking a long look at the peaceful greenery surrounding her, and the bright blue sky. It really would have been such a lovely day. They were the last people to board the train. The doors slammed shut, but the window slid down and Elana seemed permitted to lean out for just a moment.

Waving one final time at her "fans", she felt a great rush of affection, and decided that she wasn't going to disappoint them. She'd once heard of something called a "self-fulfilling prophecy". Maybe it was this that prompted Elana to decide to believe in herself, and determined, in a sense, to live to collect corn another day. It wasn't much of a life, but it was hers to live.

If the Capitol wanted a fight to the death, even if it meant killing a twelve-year-old boy, that's precisely what it was going to get from Elana Hillbury.


End file.
